


Before the curry...

by WritingQuill



Series: (30) Days of Johnlock [30]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Eating in bed, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot, Schmoop, Smut, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day thirty: doing something hot </p><p>(NSFW)</p><p>John is having a perfectly nice, mindless day, until Sherlock gets home and things get... heated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the curry...

It was just one of those lazy, meaningless days. John did the laundry, cleaned up a bit, and watched telly without really paying much attention to it. Sherlock went to St Bart’s, only to return much later. 

By the time John got hungry enough to eat dinner — they didn’t keep regular eating schedules in 221b, no such thing as “lunch time” or “supper” — he put on his shoes and coat, and dragged himself to the Indian take-away around the corner. With his — and Sherlock’s, because he knew the pouncy git would be ravenous when he eventually got home from the lab — curry and Naan bread made especially by Mr Khushi, John returned to Baker Street. 

He opened the front door and automatically toed off his shoes, then walked to the kitchen and placed the bag with the food on the table near the least suspicious-looking petri dish, and went back to the lounge to place his coat on the hanger. 

‘John,’ he heard a baritone calling from the door. John turned with a start. 

‘Sherlock! Are you insane? Don’t just sneak up on me like that,’ he said with a sigh.

Sherlock didn’t reply, however. His eyes were dark and he looked… dangerous. John felt instantly warmer, both in his face and groin. They stared at each other for long moments, in which John’s breath became heavier and he just found it harder and harder to keep his knees from bending. Then, out of the blue, Sherlock attacked him. His hands bringing John’s hips closer to his own, bringing a groan out of John. 

John pulled Sherlock closer by his neck, clashing their mouths together ferociously, passionately licking his way across that ridiculous cupid’s bow, and biting that plush bottom lip. Sherlock moaned loudly, which made John grin into the kiss and dig into it more, bringing their tongues together in a frenzy of heated touches and sweet tastes. 

As their touches grew hastier and more adventurous, they began working on each other’s shirt buttons. John all but ripped off Sherlock’s suit jacket and purple shirt, and Sherlock did, in fact, rip off John’s checkered shirt. It’s fine, he wasn’t too fond of it anyway. With their shirts off, John began tasting the delicious skin on Sherlock’s jaw, and that sensitive spot under his right earlobe that always made him squirm and sigh in that brilliant way that got John’s knees all wobbly. 

Without realising it, they made it to the bedroom. John felt the back of his leg bump against the bed as he nibbled on that glorious pale neck. Sherlock was moaning under his ministrations, his hands roaming through John’s back, touching him like no-one before, and he shoved John onto the bed, straddling his hips. John felt his mouth water as he ran his hands across those muscled thighs covered in expensive wool. Sherlock smirked and bent down, missing John’s mouth in favour of his scar — his second favourite part of John’s body — which he tasted and explored thoroughly, even after having done it a hundred times before. John writhed and squirmed, moaning softly as Sherlock’s soft, warm tongue ran across the healed tissue. All of a sudden they were wearing too many clothes and John just wanted them _off_ , which he started working on. Undoing his and Sherlock’s belts and trousers with Sherlock straddling him and kissing his chest was difficult, but not something he was unused to. Soon, they had pushed those evil garments away, along with the pants — John’s own white boxers and Sherlock’s black boxer briefs — and were blissfully naked. Sherlock climbed over John again, and their erections touched, sending electric shocks all over John’s body, making him groan loudly, which only made Sherlock groan even more loudly.

It was a good thing Mrs Hudson decided to visit her sister that week. 

Sherlock snaked his way down John, kissing down his chest, licking and sucking, clearly leaving a lot of marks. John revelled in the touch, he fisted the bedsheets tightly, shaking a bit as Sherlock teased him around the base of his penis. He licked a teasing stripe along the shaft, making John’s breath hitch. John could feel Sherlock smirk as he worked his tongue even more teasingly around the head, and when he looked down, he almost lost it. Sherlock, down there, all wild-hair, debauchery and half-lidded eyes, enjoying John’s taste as his red lips swallowed the head of John’s penis, going slowly downwards, taking in all he could. That had to be one of John’s favourite sights, Sherlock coming undone while he made John come undone. Breathtakingly beautiful. 

But of course Sherlock would not end it like that. Tonight, apparently, he wanted much more, so he moved away from John’s erection and climbed upwards again, meeting John’s lips with his, and they kissed sloppily for a while, though at that point John was so hard it hurt. 

He moved his hand down to grip Sherlock’s leaking penis. John ground them together and Sherlock let out a slight whimper into John’s mouth. It was messy and a bit gross, and just abso-fucking-lutely perfect. John thought that if he died at that moment, he’d die a happy man. 

Sherlock moved over to grab lubricant on the bedside table, then thrust it into John’s hand. ‘Don’t take too long, I’m not going to last long,’ he whispered into John’s ear, then bit the cartilage, and John let out a strangled cry of arousal. 

‘Right,’ John slurred out. They switched positions, John now on top, kneeling between Sherlock’s open legs. Sherlock looked at him with so much naked _want_ , that John almost dropped the bottle twice. He managed to slick his fingers, though, and started working on getting Sherlock prepared. 

It took a few minutes, but finally Sherlock was open enough, and both of them were breathing extremely hard, sweating furiously. John slicked his erection with lubricant and proceeded to push inside Sherlock carefully. It always took a bit of adjusting, but when they managed to find the right angle, both men groaned in pleasure, clinging to each other for a few seconds, before John started thrusting into Sherlock. 

The thrusts became faster and harder, and when John hit the prostate, Sherlock all but sobbed into John’s shoulder. He bit down on it, though, causing John to whimper. As they thrust against each other, Sherlock’s legs wrapped around John’s waist, John began to stroke Sherlock’s penis, which was purple with arousal by now. Faster and faster, harder and harder. Then, with a not-quite-strangled sob, Sherlock came profusely, spilling all over his own stomach and John’s chest. That sight alone was all that was necessary to push John over the edge, and he climaxed with an even louder cry, panting heavily. 

John, not able to hold himself up any longer, fell atop Sherlock, who chuckled and arranged them more comfortably, using the flannel kept at the nightstand to clean them up. They lay like that for a bit, John’s head on Sherlock’s chest, and Sherlock’s arm around John’s shoulders, their legs tangled in a mass of limbs. 

They were startled by a growling noise. John raised an eyebrow, and looked up at Sherlock’s face, which was a bit red. And not because of the mind-blowing sex. 

‘Have you eaten today?’ he asked with a smirk. Sherlock looked away and shook his head slightly. John laughed. ‘Lucky for you, I had just returned from a curry run before you pounced on me.’ 

‘Oh?’ Sherlock perked up a bit, smiling down at John. ‘Naan bread?’ 

John scoffed. ‘What am I, an amateur? Of course there’s Naan bread, you big lump,’ he chuckled. ‘You just lie there, and I’ll go get the food. I think after these strenuous activities, we deserve take-away in bed.’ He winked and was followed out of the room by the rumbling sound of Sherlock’s baritone laughter. 

A half hour later, found the boys sprawled on the bed, sharing bits and pieces of re-heated curry and bread, giggling as they bickered over pieces of chicken.

**Author's Note:**

> Told you I'd write porn. Though I still lack the confidence for it, ha-ha. It's getting a bit better, right? Let me know... 
> 
> Anyway, this is it! That's the challenge done! I'm a bit sad now - especially since my exam is done, as is my first year in uni, so now I've got nothing going on, man! - but I'd like to thank you all for the support, the messages, kudos and everything else. It's been a really fun month, and I loved doing it. 
> 
> As always, you can reach me at [bagginswatson](http://bagginswatson.tumblr.com), if you want to give me a shout, talk or ask for anything. Ask box is open :D
> 
> Also, a couple of notes on my other stories:
> 
> You can check out the ongoing Meanings series [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/33774)  
> my Johnlock adaptation of When Harry Met Sally [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/574033/chapters/1028827)  
> a little fluffy drabble I wrote called A Quiet Evening [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/538031)  
> and, lastly, my latest parent!lock [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/743545)
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading these, you guys are totally awesome!
> 
> Cheers x


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